Remembering the Start

When I look back at my early days in theater, I’m struck by how much of my journey was shaped by people who took the time to believe in me. I grew up in a musical family, so the arts were always around, but finding my way into the professional world of theater wasn’t as clear-cut. Like many people in this business, I started by saying yes to anything I could get my hands on—school plays, local gigs, independent projects—and hoping someone would notice. The truth is, a few people did. And those early acts of encouragement, guidance, and support made all the difference.

Now, after years of working in theater as a producer, I’ve come to understand the responsibility that comes with experience. You reach a point where it’s no longer just about the next show or the next opportunity for yourself—it becomes about the legacy you’re building and the doors you’re holding open for others. That’s why mentorship has become such an important part of how I define my role in the arts.

More Than Advice

People sometimes think mentorship is about giving advice—and yes, there’s some of that. But real mentorship, the kind that lasts, is about more than just sharing tips or answering questions. It’s about showing up. It’s about listening. It’s about helping someone see themselves in a future they may not have fully imagined yet.

There’s a moment I think every young artist or theater professional has—when they look around and wonder if there’s truly space for them in the industry. That uncertainty can be overwhelming, especially for people who don’t come from traditional pipelines or who haven’t seen people like themselves in positions of leadership. Mentorship is one way we push back against that doubt. It’s how we help people realize that they belong, that their voice matters, and that there’s a path forward for them.

Access Is Everything

Of course, mentorship can only go so far without access. I’ve learned that while personal support is crucial, structural support is just as important. The arts can sometimes feel like a closed circle—like you need to know the right people, or have the right pedigree, to make it in. That’s not the way it should be.

I’ve always believed that talent exists everywhere, but opportunity doesn’t. Part of my job, and the job of anyone in a position of influence, is to help create those opportunities. That means partnering with organizations that serve emerging artists. It means supporting outreach programs that bring theater education to schools and communities that have historically been left out. And it means being intentional about who we include in our rooms and who we invite into conversations.

Learning Goes Both Ways

One of the most surprising things I’ve learned as a mentor is how much I get out of the experience, too. Working with younger or newer professionals reminds me of why I got into this business in the first place. Their ideas are fresh, their energy is infectious, and their vision for what theater can be often challenges me to think differently.

Mentorship isn’t just about passing knowledge down—it’s also about staying open to what the next generation brings to the table. Every conversation I have with an aspiring producer or artist helps me grow as well. They see the world through a different lens, shaped by experiences that are often very different from mine. And that exchange of perspectives makes the work richer for everyone.

Creating a Culture of Support

If we want theater to remain a vital, relevant, and inclusive art form, we have to be intentional about how we nurture its future. That means more than just focusing on the next production—it means creating a culture where emerging artists feel supported, seen, and empowered to take risks.

I’ve been lucky to be part of companies and communities that value mentorship and professional development, and I try to carry that spirit into every project I work on. Whether it’s offering guidance on a budget, helping someone workshop an idea, or just being available to talk through a challenge, I see mentorship as an ongoing practice—not a one-time gesture.

Why It Matters

At the end of the day, producing theater is about people. Yes, there are scripts, schedules, budgets, and logistics. But none of it happens without people who care deeply, who collaborate generously, and who believe in the power of storytelling. Mentorship is how we build more of those people. It’s how we ensure that the values we hold—creativity, empathy, curiosity—get passed along.

James Simon, producer, is just one chapter in the larger story of theater. My hope is that the artists and producers I’ve had the chance to mentor will go on to write their own chapters—ones that are bold, compassionate, and uniquely their own. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll turn around and mentor someone else along the way.

That’s how the cycle continues. That’s how we keep the heart of this work alive.